The Missing Wife
This creepy short story by reddit user /r/Luna_LoveWell is the perfect combination of foreboding and scary. It comes as a response to the following reddit writing prompt:
After a months long nationwide search operation, your missing wife is found alive and well. You were the one who murdered and dismembered her.
The flashes and clicks from the cameras were overwhelming. Behind the barricades, reporters from across the nation were desperately thrusting their microphones as far out as possible, hoping to catch any word we might say. The police escort ushered my wife and I out and into the waiting towncar. We’d booked a short vacation out of town while all of this died down.
In the backseat of the car, Sarah looked up at me with that grateful smile she’d been wearing ever since we were reunited. There were tears of joy in her big, beautiful green eyes. Those same eyes that had sobbed with fear while she was tied and gagged in the back seat of that rental car. Either she was the best actress to ever live, or she didn’t remember a thing.
I’d arranged everything so perfectly. That casual skype call while Sarah was out of town on business. “I miss you so much!” I’d told her. “I just have to see you!” She thought I was so romantic, driving all the way up there at midnight just to for a one-night visit! She didn’t know that I’d left my car in front of the driveway for the neighbors to see and borrowed my girlfriend’s. Sarah enjoyed that sexy game we’d played, where she went down to the hotel bar and had a drink while I came in with a very thorough disguise and flirted with her. Shamelessly and very visibly in front of every other patron. Had to make sure she was seen. I invited her back to my place, and she loudly accepted the offer.
Perfect. I whispered into her ear as she climbed into the passenger seat: “I don’t think I can wait to get all the way home.” She smiled and climbed into the backseat. I tied her up tight, and she giggled and moaned as I did it. I think she only realized what was happening when I headed back to the driver’s seat and drove off without another word. First she tried to call out, but was muffled by the gag. Then she struggled against the ropes, more and more urgently. Then the tears started, filling up her beautiful green eyes and marring her mascara. She was still crying when I pulled into that empty field, dumped her into the dirt, and slit her throat.
I put my arm around her as the chauffeur drove off, followed by our police escort. By the time we’d gotten to the airport, we’d lost any remaining reporters and could finally be alone.
She slept on the flight, leaning against my arm. I was too nervous. How? How had she come back? I’d checked surreptitiously: no scars or cuts or anything. No thin line along her neck where I’d slashed her arteries open. No sutures along her shoulders where I’d hacked off her arms. No wounds on her hips where I’d cut her legs. Nothing to indicate that she’d been stuck at the bottom of a lake for the past 4 months. She was just back, good as new. She couldn’t explain where she’d been or how she had gotten back; the first thing she remembered was being found sleeping on that boat in Boston, a thousand miles away from where her body was settling into the mud of Lake Wampatoc. Before that, all she could remember was driving up to the hotel for that conference.
We landed in St. Thomas at dawn, just as the sun broke over the crystal blue waters and swaying palm trees. The hotel room had a beautiful view of the harbor, where white catamarans bounced lightly in the waves. I stood out on the balcony with a drink in hand, feeling the warm breeze rustle through my hair. “Come out with me,” I called to her, and turned back to see what she was still doing in the room.
Through the window, I caught a brief glimpse of her staring back. The sparkling emerald eyes that I knew so well were gone, replaced with a deep, empty void of black that covered even the whites of her eyes. Blacker than coal. Blacker than deep space. So dark that it seemed to suck in all of the light from the room. Full of anger and rage and hatred that seemed to burn through her entire body. I flinched back unconsciously, as if her withering gaze was physically painful.
And with a blink, the black eyes were gone. She strode through the door, smiling and wrapped in a towel. She came over, kissed me, and suggested we go to the beach.
“I’m so glad we’re getting to spend some time alone,” she told me with an innocently sweet smile.